


start it over, start it over again

by silentsaebyeok



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: (duh), Abandonment Issues, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny is trying his very best, Johnny would take a bullet for both of these kids, Major Character Injury, Miguel has a looooooonnnnggg road ahead of him, Post-Season/Series 02, Robby has the guilt of the century on his shoulders, Whump, do not copy to another site, hopefully it’s still enjoyable if you read it after watching season 3, this fic is about to become AU on Friday but I’m posting it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28425489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsaebyeok/pseuds/silentsaebyeok
Summary: “All these years later and I still can’t believe your mom gave you the middle name Swayze,” Johnny said, mentally kicking himself the second the words flew out of his mouth, realizing how harsh they sounded a second too late.But Robby didn’t have the anger in his eyes that Johnny was so accustomed to. Instead, he was just looking at him oddly, brow furrowed and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.“How’s Miguel?”--Or, Johnny visits the hospital and the juvenile detention center and has two conversations with the two kids he would do anything for.
Relationships: Miguel Diaz & Johnny Lawrence, Robby Keene & Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	start it over, start it over again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs_N_Uzumaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N_Uzumaki/gifts), [HanukoYoukai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanukoYoukai/gifts).



> Hello! I'm sure by the time many people read this fic, it will be an AU. I realize I'm posting it super close to the release date of season 3, but I've been working on it for a while and I just had to release it to the wild. I hope it will still be enjoyable to you if you read this after watching season 3. I based this work heavily on the trailers and clips from the show that were available before release, so hopefully it won't stray too far away from actual canon.  
> \--  
> This fic is also a late Christmas gift to two of my very wonderful friends: [Mrs_N_Uzumaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N_Uzumaki/pseuds/Mrs_N_Uzumaki) and [HanukoYoukai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanukoYoukai/pseuds/HanukoYoukai). I've had so much fun discussing this show with them, and I appreciate having both of them in my life. Merry Christmas guys. I love you! <3  
> \--  
> UPDATE: [Mrs_N_Uzumaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N_Uzumaki/pseuds/Mrs_N_Uzumaki) made the wonderful banner art you see below! I love it girl! Thank you so much! <3

_“It's been a rough year  
Been some tough tears  
I've lost so fast  
All that I had_

_But when it's time to  
I'll fight for you  
'Cause you know you are  
Why I've come so far.”_

Miguel stared up at the ceiling. 

The clean—but ugly—white-tiled, hospital ceiling.

He’d been doing a lot of staring lately, letting his mind drift away, letting the drugs they were pumping through his system numb him to the world around him.

Because everything was laced in a murky fog of medication. Because it was hard to think straight when he was in so much pain. When he didn’t know which way was up.

The past few weeks had felt like a blur. He remembered waking up on that first day, confused and scared and unable to move. He hadn’t known what was going on then, and in some ways he still didn’t. All he’d known was that he was in a hospital with his mom and a random nurse standing over him, telling him to calm down, telling him it was going to be okay. But he was terrified. Because he didn’t know why he was there, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t move.

But as time dragged on at a snail’s pace, as he calmed down enough to remember some of the details, he got bits and pieces of the story. But he couldn’t process it. It still felt fake.

Like it happened to someone else.

Nothing really felt real with the number of crazy medications he was on.

But even if he tried, Miguel didn’t think he would be able to process what had happened. Because it was so quick. Instantaneous. One moment he was apologizing, letting go, and the next moment he was waking up in a hospital, hooked up to machines and wires and unable to move.

It didn’t help that no one was willing to give him very many details. He knew his mom and his _yaya_ were hiding things from him. He knew they thought he couldn’t handle the truth. He knew they thought he would break. And even when he tried to get his friends to talk, none of them were willing to tell him what happened, other than he’d been kicked off a second-floor balcony and landed on his back.

They weren’t even brave enough to say Robby’s name.

Maybe everyone thought he was too drugged up to wonder or to care about the details, but he wasn’t. Because he wasn’t stupid. He knew Robby kicked him, even if nobody would say so. He put two and two together.

And because of that, he had so many questions that no one was willing to answer. Instead, his mom would avert her eyes when he asked. She would mumble things like: “ _You don’t need to worry about that, Miguelito. Just rest.”_

It was aggravating.

Because being in the hospital and suffering a horrific injury didn’t mean he should be kept in the dark.

In fact, Miguel thought it should mean the opposite.

But it seemed like everybody thought he was too fragile to handle it. And if that was the case, he really didn’t know what to make of that information. He didn’t know if he could allow himself to disagree when he could barely move, when he couldn’t even sit up without help.

And besides, he wanted to know how Robby was doing. It was a weird feeling, wondering how the guy who put him here was fairing. But he had to know. Because he knew Robby wasn’t a bad guy. He couldn’t be if Sam was willing to go out with him. If he was Johnny’s son.

But he also felt anger. A hot, fiery anger that was constantly simmering just below the surface. One that he had to let dissolve into a glowing ember.

Because he couldn’t do anything about it. Not like this.

Because the feeling of apathy was stronger than any emotion he could bring himself to feel.

Maybe it was the drugs.

Or maybe it was because he’d become a master of avoidance over the past few weeks. Because if he didn’t avoid, if he didn’t let himself succumb to the disorienting pull of medication, then it would be real.

And he desperately wished reality were something else. He desperately wished it wasn’t the diagnosis he’d been given. He desperately wished that his mistakes hadn’t led to this.

He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that his whole life was going to change. He was having a hard time understanding what things would be like when he finally got to escape this hell known as the hospital and go home.

Because none of it felt real. And he was dreading the day when it would. And that day would eventually come. He was sure of it.

Because to Miguel, acceptance meant giving up.

And that wasn’t something he was willing to do.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He needed to force himself to go back to sleep, even though sleep was hard to come by with his neck in traction. Because if he could sleep, he wouldn’t have to think.

He must have been successful at drifting under for a few moments, because the next thing he knew, a soft knock on the door of his hospital room startled him awake.

“Come in.” He croaked, suddenly realizing he was thirsty.

And despite not being able to turn his neck at the sound of the door opening, despite it being firmly locked into place by the wildly uncomfortable halo brace, Miguel immediately knew a nurse was approaching his bed.

Because the hospital staff all wore those ugly-ass Crocs, which made a squishing sound on the tile floors.

That was one of the weird things about being in the hospital for a few weeks. He picked up on the little things. The nuances that someone staying over night or for a few days would have never picked up on.

It was a realization that made him feel so pathetic.

“Good afternoon, Miguel.” The nurse said, coming into his line of vision.

And that sparked another pathetic realization, the realization that he’d been stuck here long enough to know many of the nurse’s names. Because without even introducing herself, he knew this nurse was named Nia. Because he’d seen her a gazillion times in the past few weeks.

“How are you feeling right now? Any pain?” Nia asked, adjusting his infusion pump and checking his vitals.

“No. Just thirsty.” Miguel lied. He was so sick and tired of being asked the same questions every couple of hours.

“Okay. I’ll get you some water once we’ve got you sitting up.”

Miguel groaned. “It’s that time already?”

Nia gave him a pitiful smile. “I know you hate it, and I know it hurts, but its bad for your blood pressure when you lay flat for too long. We have to keep you moving as much as possible, okay? And at this stage that means sitting up, even when its hard.”

Miguel let out a huff of frustration. Sure, it was nice to be upright once he finally got there, but the process was painful. It made him feel like the pitiful invalid that he was. Because somehow, he went from All-Valley champion to cripple in the span of less than a year. Somehow, he went from breaking boards to breaking his neck.

“You ready?” Nia asked, looking at him oddly.

It made him wonder how long he’d been stuck in his head. Thoughts pestering him on a loop.

“I guess.” He answered.

“Alright. You know the drill. Put your arms out.”

Miguel did as she asked, putting his arms at the side of his body and pushing upwards with all the strength he had.

Within seconds, he could feel Nia’s arm’s snaking under the small gap between his upper back and the mattress, supporting him and pushing him upwards the rest of the way.

And it hurt. It hurt like hell. But as he clenched his teeth to keep himself from crying out, he realized the pain wasn’t the reason he hated doing this so much. He could handle a little pain. It was the fact that he couldn’t even make it a few inches off the bed before his arms gave out on him and some nurse had to do the rest.

It felt so demoralizing. So embarrassing.

How would he ever be able to do anything he loved again when he couldn’t even sit up without help? And the doctors told him he would gain a lot more function in his upper body as his injuries began to heal, but they weren’t sure about his legs. They weren’t sure if he would ever be able to walk again.

Miguel clenched his eyes closed. He couldn’t let himself think about that. He couldn’t let it become reality. He had to pretend that conversation never happened.

“That was really good.” Nia said, bringing him back to the present and stuffing some pillows behind his back as she adjusted the bed into an upright position. “You did really well today. I can already see lots of improvement.”

“Really?” Miguel asked. None of that felt like improvement to him.

“Really.” She said, handing him his long-awaited glass of water.

And as he gulped down the cold drink, Nia continued talking. “Your mom called. She said you’ll be having a visitor drop by in a little while. So, just a heads up.”

Miguel raised his eyebrows. _Great. Another visitor. Every. Damn. Day._

So many people were coming to see him, and it was beginning to feel like too much. He wanted time to be alone—or as alone as one could get in the hospital—he wanted time to process things. He wanted time to breathe.

And visits drained him. Because he had to put up a front. He had to pretend like he wasn’t shattered inside. He had to force himself to rise above the fog of medication and put on a brave face. Paint on a smile he didn’t feel.

He briefly glanced at the bedside table in the corner of his vision. Every inch of it was already filled with cards and flowers and gifts. So much so that if the San Andreas Fault decided it was go time, he was sure everything would topple to the ground.

He didn’t know if he could handle anyone today.

“Who’s coming?” He finally asked. “Do you know?”

“Ummm….” Nia trailed off, looking down at her clipboard. “Someone named John Lawrence.”

Sensei was coming? His mom was allowing that?

He couldn’t believe it! He’d been begging his mom to allow Sensei in since the day he woke up. And it seemed like his begging was finally paying off. A thrum of excitement shot through him at the news. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” Nia asked, unaware of his internal excitement.

“Oh. Um…I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Just push your call button if you need us. You know how it goes.”

“Okay.” Miguel said. “Thank you, Nia.”

“Of course.”

And as Nia left the room, Miguel realized he felt a little lighter. Lighter than he’d felt since he woke up in this depressing place. Because he finally had something to look forward to. Because somehow, despite her reservations, his mom was allowing Sensei Lawrence to come for a visit.

It was enough to brighten his entire week.

\--

Hospitals were a load of bullshit.

And this hospital _especially_ was a load of bullshit.

Because the universe seemed to be against him with this place. Because there were so many bad memories here.

It was the hospital his mom died in. He’d cried at her bedside for what felt like forever. He cried until they kicked him out. Because in that moment, he felt more alone than he’d ever felt before. Because that was when he realized his only family left was Sid. His only family left was an abusive asshole that Johnny knew he couldn’t count as family anyway.

And then, days later, it was the hospital Robby was born in. And that brought with it a truckload of guilt he didn’t want to confront. Because Robby symbolized everything that was wrong with his life. Every flaw and every failure.

Even now.

Because the reason he was here, the reason he was walking through the halls and looking for room 207 was because of Robby. Was because he couldn’t figure out how to be a dad.

He needed to go visit the kid, even if he refused to talk in protest, even if he refused to look at him. Because Johnny knew Robby didn’t want to see him. He’d made that clear weeks ago.

But just showing up said something that he knew his son couldn’t ignore.

It said he cared.

Even if it was far too late. Far too late to start caring.

And caring was exactly why he had been worried about staying away from Miguel. Because even though Carmen made it very clear she didn’t want him around her family, Johnny had a difficult time staying away.

Because he cared about Miguel. He cared about him like he was his own flesh and blood. He cared about him like a son.

It wasn’t something he could deny. Not anymore.

Johnny was so lost in his head that he didn’t realize he reached room 207 until his feet stopped him in front of a window.

The window to Miguel’s hospital room.

The blinds were open this time; unlike all the times he had come by when the kid was still in the induced coma. The light was on in the room, too. Shining bright enough that Johnny could see how pale Miguel’s face looked. The kid was sitting up against a mound of pillows, and Johnny wondered how the nurses even managed to get him into that position.

He thought about Carmen then. He thought about how hard all of this was going to be for her once Miguel was well enough to go home. And he thought about their conversation yesterday. The one where she reluctantly told him he could see the kid. The one where she begrudgingly admitted that she would need his help with Miguel once he came home.

Carmen had been all business then, folded arms and tense posture. She didn’t even give him very many details about Miguel’s condition. All she gave him was a reluctant olive branch and a forced smile.

Johnny suspected Rosa had a lot to do with Carmen even trying again at all.

Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, Johnny figured it was time to stop stewing over things he couldn’t control. Instead, it was time to visit the kid.

It was now or never. So, he pushed open the door and walked hesitantly to Miguel’s bedside.

But looking at his conscious face for the first time in weeks made him see something he never wanted to see. Something he had only seen once before. Something he had only seen in the weeks and months before his mother died.

And it haunted him.

Because Miguel’s eyes looked empty.

They looked wrong.

Because they were void of the spark of youth that had constantly been in them from the moment they met. Instead, they were glazed over with the remnants of medication and pain.

A part of him—the part that abandoned Robby the day he was born, the part that was a coward—wanted to turn away. To leave the hospital and never come back. Because this was so much worse than seeing Diaz unconscious. It was so much worse when the kid was awake and looking at him with an expression he couldn’t define.

Looking at him with those empty, pain-filled eyes.

But he forced himself to stay rooted on the spot. He forced himself to be there, to be present. Because he couldn’t abandon another kid. Not after everything. Not after how much good Miguel had done in his life. Not after the stubborn way he refused to give up on him, even when he had every right to.

“Sensei? You okay?” Miguel asked, voice sounding rough. Sounding broken.

Johnny shook his head. This kid. Always so selfless. It was astounding.

“I’m just fine, Diaz. But it looks like you still got that metal cage on your head, huh?” He said, lightly tapping one of the bars holding the kid’s neck in place.

He wouldn’t pretend to understand all the medical shit that was going on, but he knew it must be painful to be connected to such a crazy contraption.

Miguel sighed. “Yeah. I’m totally sick of it.”

“I’m sure you are.” Johnny nodded, taking a seat in the chair next to Miguel’s bed and positioning it in a way that he would be able to see Johnny with an immobilized neck. “How are you feeling?”

“Um. I’m doing okay.” Miguel said, shifting minutely and itching a spot on his forehead close to where they drilled the brace in. “Just…ya know, I’m sick of this place. It’s boring.”

Johnny pressed his lips together. He could tell Miguel was putting up a front. He could tell he was trying to be tough. Trying to be strong for his sensei.

He knew because it was exactly what he would do if their roles were reversed. If he was the one lying in the hospital and drugged up to his eyeballs. If Miguel was the one at his bedside.

“Well…” Johnny began awkwardly. “Do you know when you’ll be discharged yet?”

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Miguel looked crestfallen, frustrated and hurt.

“No.” He said, averting his eyes. “I have to be out of the traction brace first, and then I have to start physical therapy in the hospital, and then there will probably be more stuff after that, but nobody is telling me what’s going on both with my condition and with everything outside, so I don’t even fucking know.”

There was silence for a moment after that, and Johnny didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected an outburst like that from Miguel. He’d never seen the kid act like that before. He’d never seen him so raw, so beaten down, and so broken.

And to Johnny, that made everything suddenly feel real for the first time. It made the consequences feel like they had more weight. It made everything hurt a thousand times worse. Like a knife was being jammed into his chest.

Johnny sighed. “Well, Diaz, I can’t really help with the medical BS, but I can tell you what’s going on in the outside world. What do you want to know?”

Miguel seemed to consider his words carefully for a moment, hesitating and chewing on his lip. “How’s Robby?”

The question hit Johnny like a ton of bricks. That was not what he expected to come out of Miguel’s mouth. It wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was nowhere close. He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know what to do.

Because why was the kid even asking _that_? Why did he care?

And Johnny didn’t even know how much everyone was keeping from him. He didn’t know how much Miguel knew, if anything at all.

“What—have you been told anything?” He finally said, staring at one of the metal bars around Miguel’s head to keep himself from looking into his eyes.

“Nothing.” Miguel answered, sounding annoyed. “My mom, my _yaya_ , they won’t even say who did it. But—but I’m not an idiot, Sensei. I know Robby kicked me, but I don’t know how he’s doing, or if he’s okay.”

Johnny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This kid was really something. He was hooked up to machines and wires and tubes and he was asking about the guy who put him here? He was wondering about the well-being of the person who made it so he may never walk again? Johnny couldn’t believe it.

But a part of him was also angry. Angry that Miguel had been kept in the dark for the past few weeks that he’d been conscious. Why had no one told him anything?

“No, he’s not doing okay.” Johnny finally said. “He—he fled the scene. Went on the run. And that’s something you should _never_ do if you find yourself in a position like that.”

He made the mistake of looking Miguel in the eyes then. He saw his expression change from blank to horrified in a matter of seconds.

“Listen, Miguel. I know you won’t understand until your mom lets you see the footage, but you looked—you looked—” Something caught in his throat. Something that caused him to take a deep breath, take a moment to compose himself. “For a while there, none of us knew if you were gonna make it or not. It was really touch and go. And that has—that really affected Robby in a bad way.” 

Johnny looked down at his hands, thinking about the way he got dirt under his fingernails when he tackled Robby to the ground. Because he was running like a feral animal. Because he didn’t want to be found. 

“LaRusso and I spent a week looking for him. And when we found him, he wasn’t doing so hot.”

A silence hung in the air after that. Thick and opaque. Taking up the space between them.

“And then?” Miguel hesitantly asked.

“He’s in juvie, Miguel. For what he did to you. But—but his sentence is probably gonna be longer because he fled the scene. We’ll have to see what the judge says at his trial.”

“I’m so sorry, Sensei.”

Johnny looked up at that, eyebrows kitting together. He didn’t know why Miguel was apologizing for something completely out of his control. It didn’t make sense.

“Aren’t you angry?” Johnny decided to ask. “Because you have every right to be. I know I would be furious if I was in your shoes.” 

“Of course, I’m angry.” Miguel answered, looking at him as if he’d grown two heads. “But what’s that gonna do for me right now? I can’t go—I can’t go punch it out, can I? Not when I can’t even sit up without help. And I don’t want to let it fester when I can’t let it out, you know? So, I’m just gonna have to let it go until I can do something about it.”

Johnny sat there with his mouth agape. _This kid._ “Did LaRusso get to you? Has he been coming here? Because all of that sounded just like a bunch of bullshit he would say.”

Miguel chuckled, a tired looking smile crossing his features. “Nope. That’s all from my mom.”

“Figures.” Johnny sighed, shaking his head. “She’s a better person than either of us could ever hope to be.”

“She sure is.” Miguel agreed.

And Johnny thought, not for the first time, how lucky Miguel was to have a mother like Carmen. To have someone so invested in him. To have a person who sacrificed everything for him. To have a mother who left her home at _eighteen_ so he could have a better life.

It was badass. And that badassery was exactly why he was attracted to her.

Miguel spoke then, breaking the silence. “I know she’s mad at you. And for that, I’m sorry. I’ve tried to tell her none of this was your fault but—”

“But she’s a mother. No, I get it.” Johnny interrupted, looking back down at his hands.

He got it, but it still hurt.

Because he finally found someone that wasn’t just a rebound for Ali. Because he finally found someone he could give himself to completely. For the first time in over thirty years.

And then it was squandered.

By his own son.

Miguel’s unsure, tired voice pulled him from his thoughts again. “And my _yaya_ told me that you guys went on a date?”

It sounded like a question. Like the kid wanted conformation from him. Like he didn’t really believe that his grandma was telling him the truth.

“We…we did.” Johnny answered, looking Miguel in the eyes, figuring it was better to be upfront and honest. “It was a couple nights before your…accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Miguel said again, looking down at the blanket on his lap.

Ugh. This apology shit was really starting to get on his nerves.

“Quit apologizing, Diaz. Me and your mom, Robby, this whole fucking mess, none of it is your fault, okay? So stop thinking it is. You gotta kick that guilt right in the ass.” Johnny said passionately, getting to his feet.

And then his own words dawned on him. “Metaphorically speaking.” He added.

There was a moment of quiet where Johnny wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. A moment where he wondered if he was being an asshole because he didn’t know how to act around hospital patients. Around the vulnerable.

But Miguel just rolled his eyes. “You can say kick. I’m not gonna break. I’m sick of people acting weird about it anyway.”

Johnny nodded and sighed in relief. Normal, Miguel wanted normal. He could work with that. “How about when you get that badass-looking cage removed I break you out of here for a few hours? How does that sound? We could go do something fun. Just you and me.”

Miguel smiled. A real, genuine looking smile. “I’d love that! I’m so sick of the food in here. I swear if they bring me green jello one more time I’m gonna lose it.”

And for a moment, under the guise of green jello, Johnny saw the life return to Miguel’s eyes. He saw a spark of something that used to be so routine and so normal.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt an inkling of hope. Because even if Diaz could never do karate again, even if he would never step foot on the mat again, the same-old happy-go-lucky kid was still in there somewhere.

It made him feel a genuine, comforting relief.

Because things would never be the same again, but at least the kid who’d saved him from his worst moments was still alive.

Still here with him. 

* * *

Johnny sighed and tried to relax his tense shoulders. He felt uncomfortable here. Out of place.

But not because it was a detention center, not because it was a place of criminals and locks. After all, he’d had quite a few of his own experiences with being detained. No, it wasn’t because of anything like that.

It was because he knew Robby didn’t want him to visit. Because he’d been explicitly told to stay away by his own kid.

But he couldn’t abandon Robby again. He couldn’t stay away any longer.

Not if he wanted to succeed at being a dad.

He was sitting alone at one of the visitation booths, waiting for a guard to bring his son out to see him. And maybe it was a pussy move because his kid wasn’t allowed to say no, but Johnny couldn’t think of any other way to have a conversation with Robby. To get to him.

Because he wasn’t answering his letters. Because he refused to take his phone calls. And that made him feel powerless and sick to his stomach. Because he needed to talk to his kid.

Johnny looked up as a guard entered the booth with a shackled Robby in tow. Seeing his son like that made something painful clench in his heart. Made his stomach tie in knots. Made his breath hitch in his throat.

And he couldn’t stop thinking it was his fault that his son was locked up.

Because it was.

There was no way around the truth.

“You have one hour of visitation with inmate number 34721, Robert Swayze Keene.” The guard coldly said before leaving the booth. 

Johnny nodded and felt his mouth go dry as Robby sat down in front of him. The kid looked up at him then, his blue eyes holding a kind of pain Johnny never wanted to see there. Never in a million years.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Johnny would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he was waiting for Robby to say the first word.

But he could hear the tick of an analog clock in the background. He could hear the passing seconds. Neither of them speaking. Neither of them having the courage to speak.

Two cowards cut from the same cloth.

He had to break the silence. He had to say _something_.

“All these years later and I still can’t believe your mom gave you the middle name Swayze,” Johnny said, mentally kicking himself the second the words flew out of his mouth, realizing how harsh they sounded a second too late.

But Robby didn’t have the anger in his eyes that Johnny was so accustomed to. Instead, he was just looking at him oddly, brow furrowed and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“How’s Miguel?”

Johnny was taken aback. He never imagined Robby would bring that up willingly. He never expected the sense of déjà vu that came over him, making him feel lost in a way he couldn’t describe. Because these kids were hurting, and somehow, they still had the ability to worry about each other. To care when they didn’t have to. To care when they could choose to be bitter instead.

It was incredible.

“He’ll live.” Johnny finally said. “No thanks to you.”

Robby’s eyes narrowed dangerously at that, and Johnny instantly knew he fucked up. Again. Just like he always managed to do when interacting with his son. It was like putting a band aid on their relationship only to rip it off after a few seconds, the wound still bleeding heavily.

“I know _that_.” Robby countered, eyes still holding that malice. “Sam told me as much. But…is he—is he gonna be okay?”

“She’s still in contact with you?” Johnny said, dancing around the subject. “I can’t believe LaRusso is allowing that.”

Robby sighed. “Just answer the question, Dad.”

And the look on his face told Johnny everything. That he was tired. That he was hurting. That he was completely done with his bullshit.

It meant that he needed to try harder. It meant that he needed to do better. Because Robby didn’t need his snark. Not right now.

“They—the doctors don’t know how things are gonna turn out.” Johnny began. “He’s awake and talking if that’s what you’re asking. But he’s in a lot of pain because…well, you saw.”

Robby was staring down at the table intently; a wounded look on his face. It made Johnny not want to continue, even though he knew his kid deserved the truth.

“Robby, I know you don’t want to hear it, but Miguel might—they’re saying he might never walk again.” 

Robby looked up at that. His eyes were vacant. Void of life. Void of even the bitterness that they usually held for Johnny.

It was a look that broke his heart.

“I—I thought I killed him, Dad.” Robby began, voice sounding low and rough.

_Well, you almost did._ Johnny thought, biting back the words that wanted to leap from his mouth with every ounce of power he possessed.

“When I looked over the railing and saw—” Robby inhaled sharply, cutting himself off. Johnny could see his hands shaking as he clutched the table. “I thought he was—I thought he was dead.”

A heavy silence overtook them both. Neither knowing what to say. What to do. And it was in that silence that Johnny continued to stare at Robby’s shaking hands. Watching as his kid desperately tried to stop them from trembling.

It was then that Johnny wondered if he was sleeping at night. It was then that he wondered if he was truly coping with everything. It was then that he wondered if the juvie people were getting him help. Mental help. For the kind of shit that he always claimed wasn’t real.

Until now.

Because now he knew it was real. Because it was staring him in the face.

“How are you doing in here?” Johnny asked, deciding to be blunt. “And tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know.” Robby answered despondently. “It’s—I know it’s what I deserve after doing that, but…it’s hard.”

Johnny nodded his head. Thinking. Thinking about how Robby wasn’t even putting up a fight. How he wasn’t even trying to get under his skin. How he was acting nothing like himself.

“Do they have you seeing anyone?”

“What? Like a shrink?” Robby asked, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny nodded silently. 

“Yeah. It’s a load of bullshit though. The doctor—he just asks me why I did it, what made me angry, you know, that kind of shit.” Robby shrugged. “He doesn’t try to fix anything in my head.”

“Well, it sounds like you need a new shrink then.”

A sudden look of anger flashed across Robby’s face. “Why do you care? You’re the one who claims having a messed-up head is made up bullshit.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my opinion.” Johnny said, trying to be patient. Trying to be gentle when he didn’t know how.

But apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because the next thing Johnny knew, their whole conversation completely fell apart. Like a house of cards crumpling to the ground.

It was inevitable, really.

Robby scoffed angrily. “What? Did Miguel change your mind about that too? Because he’s the perfect kid and I’m just an unwanted piece of shit?”

“Don’t you dare bring him into this.” Johnny said dangerously, feeling his blood boil. “He has nothing to do with it.”

“He has everything to do with it!” Robby yelled, jumping to his feet. “He’s why I’m in here!”

“You’re in here because you broke the law! Because you assaulted someone!” Johnny countered, standing and meeting Robby’s angry, malice-filled eyes.

“It was an accident!”

Johnny shook his head. “Fleeing the scene sure doesn’t make it seem that way.”

“You know what?” Robby said, voice low and dangerous. “He put you up to this didn’t he? He asked you to come here because he’s too damn self-righteous. You didn’t really want to visit me.”

And there it was. There was the answer to every internal doubt Johnny never wanted to give thought to. It was all the confirmation he needed.

Because Robby didn’t understand. He didn’t think his father loved him.

It felt like shrapnel to the chest.

Johnny sat back down, feeling defeated. Because he didn’t know how to fix this. So instead, he spoke. He told Robby the truth.

“Of course I want to visit you. You’re my son.”

Robby scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Like that ever mattered before.”

Johnny sighed. All of the kid’s walls were still up. Still as strong as ever. “Robby, I’m really trying here. I want to be here for you. But you’ve gotta try too. You’ve gotta let me in.”

And in the resulting silence, Johnny studied Robby’s face. He looked in his eyes. Looked at the way they were distant. Thinking. The way his brow was knitted together. The way his lips were in a tight, thin line.

The way he looked absolutely miserable. Vulnerable.

He didn’t know what to say or do next. The ball was in Robby’s court now.

And then Robby spoke, voice halting and hesitant. “Is—is Miguel gonna testify at the trial?”

Johnny sighed deeply. He really didn’t want to talk about this. But he would do it. He would do it because he had to try for Robby. 

“I don’t know, Robby. It all depends on when it is. Because right now, he’s not in any kind of shape to testify.”

Robby nodded sullenly and sank back into his chair. He was staring at his hands again. And again, Johnny noticed they were shaking.

“I’m gonna plead guilty. Not because the lawyer said I should—although she did—but because if I don’t—if I don’t take responsibility, I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself.”

The weight of the silence was deafening. So much so that it hurt. It hurt Johnny’s heart.

“That’s good. Your sentence will be shorter if you do.”

“Yeah.” Robby whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.

After a quiet moment, a buzzer rang, signifying their hour together was up.

And as the guard returned and Robby got to his feet, he said one last thing. One last thing Johnny didn’t ever think he would say.

“Dad? Can you—can you tell Miguel I’m sorry? Because I am. And he doesn’t need to forgive me, but—but I just want him to know.”

“I will.” Johnny nodded.

“Thanks, Dad.”

And as Robby was led away, as he disappeared from sight, Johnny realized he had tears in his eyes. He realized he was just barely holding it together. He realized he was ten seconds away from breaking down right there on the floor of the juvie.

Because neither Robby nor Miguel deserved any of this. They didn’t deserve to hurt so much when they were only sixteen.

And it was because of him. Because he decided to open a karate dojo to pay the bills.

Because he decided to give it the name Cobra Kai.

\--

It was oddly quiet that night.

More so than usual.

The tread of the guard’s boots, the jangle of keys, the soft whispers of the people in the cell block, all of it seemed to be absent.

But maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just because he was stuck in his head, the conversation with his dad from earlier looping over and over in his mind.

Because he’d accepted it long ago; that his dad didn’t care about him. But now, he wasn’t sure if that was the truth.

And he didn’t think he was ready to confront it. To examine it.

Because his dad seemed genuinely worried about him. And he’d been a complete asshole in return. Because he always pushed people away. Because he always knew how to close himself off and get people to leave him alone.

Robby wasn’t sure if that was a talent or a curse.

Sighing deeply and turning over in his cot, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight. Not after an impromptu visit he wasn’t allowed to say no to. Not after being so vulnerable with the one person he told himself he would never be vulnerable with.

And besides, what was the point in even trying to sleep anymore? He would just startle awake after a few hours, shaking and gasping from seeing the images behind his eyes. Again. Again and again. Every night.

And he definitely wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep after that.

It made him wonder how Sam was doing. If she was holding on, or if she found herself just as sleepless and restless as he did. Was she having nightmares too? Was she struggling just as much as he was?

He’d had a phone call with her a couple weeks ago. But it was brief and stilted. Awkward. Because neither of them knew what to say. He’d asked about Miguel then. And even though he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the way her voice wavered and shook.

It made him feel like the worst person in the world.

Like he was worth nothing.

And it made him realize he’d burned all his bridges. All of them.

Because nobody wanted him anymore.

But it wasn’t like anyone ever did.

His mom hadn’t even called. She hadn’t written a single letter. And for so long, for so many years, through every stupid thing she did, he’d forced himself to believe that she cared about him. Because she took him to the hospital when he broke his arm skateboarding. Because she watched every single Patrick Swayze movie with him. Because she gave him a place to live.

But after meeting Mr. LaRusso, he realized those actions didn’t mean anything. He realized that wasn’t how you showed someone you cared.

He realized that _being_ _there_ for the people you love was all that really mattered.

And there were plenty of times his mom had never been there.

Including right now.

But his dad had been. In fact, he’d been persistent. He’d written letters. He’d called. Hell, he even showed up today.

Robby squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to have hope. He didn’t want to believe. Because he knew what happened when he believed before. He’d seen his hope and his belief get destroyed.

But he couldn’t ignore the evidence. He couldn’t ignore his dad’s words.

_“Of course I want to visit you. You’re my son.”_

And he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to grow up with his dad instead. Would it have been better? Worse? The same?

Why had the courts decided his mom would take care of him anyway? Robby couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have a bottle of pills in her hand. He couldn’t remember a time when there weren’t ten different kinds of alcohol in their kitchen cabinets. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know what it sounded like when his mom had sex.

And his dad always paid child support. His mom never lied about that. He knew she never lied because she always said things like: _“This is exactly why you don’t live with your father, sweety. He’s just trying to get out of paying the child support. But I won’t let him. Somebody needs to be here for you.”_

But would things have been better with his dad? Would they have?

He didn’t know, but at least he was trying. At least he was trying now.

It said a lot of things. A lot of things he was too scared to confront.

_“Robby, I’m really trying here. I want to be here for you. But you’ve gotta try too. You’ve gotta let me in.”_

Maybe one bridge hadn’t been burned.

Maybe his dad was right. Maybe all he needed to do was try.

Try to trust.

Even when it seemed like the hardest thing in the world. Impossible, even.

But he didn’t want to try only for things to fall apart. He didn’t want to find out his suspicions were correct.

Robby let out a deep sigh. He would have to think about it. It wasn’t a decision he could make overnight.

But it was one he would eventually have to make. Because he desperately needed someone. At least _one_ someone.

At least one someone who cared about him.

At least one someone who loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic and the excerpt of lyrics at the beginning come from the song "The Comeback Kid" by the band The Midnight. I definitely feel like this song could be an anthem for Johnny as a character, and apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way. [This amazing YouTube video](https://youtu.be/joJC1wqNbC8) showcases the song with clips from the show. It's only season 1 footage since the video was made a couple years ago, but it's totally worth a watch.  
> \--  
> SEASON 3 IS ALMOST HERE AND I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED!!!


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